Change
by Johanna Brosenthal
Summary: Two conversations between Beetee and Wiress, about family relations, parallel universes, and old CDs.


**What was originally supposed to be a multi-chapter fic turned into a random oneshot, oh no.**

Beetee had nightmares after the Games. Of course he did, what kind of a person wouldn't, after killing innocent children? For a long time, he had no one to turn to, since his family would rather live in poverty, than move in with him in the Victor's village. They were all scared of him, after what they saw him do in the Arena.

One night, after he'd been shaken awake from a nightmare, where he was tangled in his own electrical-wires, and everytime he tried to wriggle out, it tightened around his neck, burning his skin. It had felt so real, that he didn't want to try going back to sleep. Instead he roamed the empty halls of his house, his heart feeling heavier by every step he took. But he couldn't stop, he didn't want to. He had to keep himself somehow occupied, in order to keep out the voices of the dead tributes, screaming in his head.

He jogged down the stairs, bare feet slapping against the tiles, and as he reached the bottom of them, he had to press his hands to the sides of his head, to keep it from exploding.

_Keep moving, don't stop, keep the demons out, keep moving,_ he told himself, but at the same time he just wanted to stand there and scream for all he was worth, to let out all his anger and pain, and join the choir of dead children, than sang in his head.

He shuffled accross the cold tile-floor, and came to a halt at the window, still pressing his palms to his temples. He noticed that the lights were on in the house accross the street, but he saw no one inside, no shadows. To occupy his mind, he tried to remember who lived there.

Wiress, the name came to him suddenly. That rather strange girl, who won the year after him, lived there with her mother. He never saw either of them, and what he remembered of Wiress, from mentoring her, was that she was very quiet, but brilliant. So incredibly brilliant, that she won.

All of a sudden, the boy found himself outside, bare-feet, in his pyjamas, breathing in the cold, night-air. He couldn't remember leaving his house, and he still wasn't sure what he was doing, as he approached the house accross the street, the light shining from it's windows the only thing guiding him through darkness.

Beetee knocked twice, and waited. Nothing. He was starting to get cold, and it began to dawn on him that he had no idea why he was here, but just as he was about to turn and leave, the door opened.

A pale girl, with wavy, black hair, stood infront of him, and their eyes met. Her's were a strange, very light grey, that immidiately reminded Beetee of District three's snow. She looked away from him, before he could decide if they were darker or lighter than it.

"Um, I have no idea what I'm doing here, really," Beetee told her, lowering his hands, that he realised were still clutching his head. She eyed him nervously, like she was expecting him to attack her.

Suddenly, her eyes lit up a little, as she realised who he was. "Beetee," she said quietly. "I remember you." With that, she turned around and started walking down the hall. She didn't close the door, so Beetee assumed she was inviting him in, and started off after her, down the dimly lit hall.

He followed her through a pair of double-doors, into what he knew was going to be the livingroom, because this house was almost identical to his. "Almost", was the keyword here. While Beetee's livingroom was very tidy, and didn't look like anyone even lived there, Wiress' livingroom was the opposite.

It didn't exactly look lived in either, like a normal, happy family resided here, but more like the lair of a brilliant scientist. The only light-source in the room came from a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and Beetee realised that the light was the very same, that he saw through the window.

Boxes filled with what seemed to be metal-scrap and vechile spare-bits were positioned at random accross the floor, as were stacks of paper, books and other peculiar items, that created a sort of maze on the floor. Wiress navigated her way through it, and sat down at a table, at the far-end of the room. Beetee followed her, eyeing the blue-prints and sketches, that covered the walls.

The girl immidiately picked up a pen, and began writing somethig in a notebook, her hand moving accross the paper frantically, like if she didn't write down whatever it was she was writing, she'd forget it. Beetee sat down opposite of her, his eyes still on the walls.

"This is all quite impressive," he commented, as he picked up a piece of paper from the table, scanning through the complicated equation, written down on it in messy hand-writing. He got half-way through, and then it suddenly didn't make sense anymore. He frowned, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

Was he really not smart enough to understand it? _Oh_. His frown deepened, as he realised that she'd began writing a different equation, before finishing the first one. _I wonder why.._

He looked up, intending to ask her about it, but she seemed so focused on whatever it was she was writing, he didn't want to disturb her. She sat hunched over, with her nose mere centimeters from the paper, as her hand flew accross it. Watching her was quite fascinating.

"Wiress?" a hoarse voice suddenly called out, making Beetee jump. He turned his attention to the doorway and saw a short woman, with sunken cheeks and black hair with hints of grey in it standing there, staring back at him.

"Who are you?" she asked, alarmed.

"I'm-I'm just Beetee. From accross the street," he explained, trying to smile at the woman, but failing miserably. He couldn't quite remember what muscles he was supposed to move in order to conjure a smile.

"Oh, of course, of course I know who you are," she almost whispered, shaking her head lightly. "My memory isn't what it used to be." She turned her attention to Wiress, not putting forth any additional questions, like finding strangers in her livingroom in the middle of the night was something that happened to her all the time. "Wiress?" she said, louder this time.

The girl in question looked up from her notebook, pen stopping abruptly mid-word. "Aren't you going to go to sleep?" the woman asked gently, but Beetee could tell that it wasn't actually a question. He turned to Wiress, to hear her respone. She just shook her head, and continued writing.

The woman sighed, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter from her pocket. She placed the cigarette between her chapped lips and lit it, mumbling as she turned around, "good-night, dear."

Beetee's heart sank. He missed his own mother terribly, and his father and brother. He hated seeing them in town, and watching them pretend like he was a complete stranger. He rarely went to town anymore, only once a week to buy the exact amount of food, that would get him through the next seven days. Sometimes he'd see his mother at the pharmacy, arguing with the cashier about the cost of his borther's heart-medicines, that he needed to take three times a week, to keep his heart beating.

Beetee would stare at her, hoping she'd look back and feel guilty for abandoning her own son. He secretly dreamed she'd walk over to him and beg him for money, to pay for the medicine. In that imaginary situation, he'd say no, because he was bitter and mad at her for leaving him, but he knew that he couldn't possibly say no to anything she'd say, if he'd only hear her voice again.

He felt tears burning at his eyes, as he thought about his family. He loved them so terribly, it physically hurt to know that they didn't want to see him anymore.

A strangled sob escaped him, and even if Wiress didn't react to it, he knew she must've heard it. "My family left me," he explained, his voice thick. "They think I'm a monster." As he spoke, he felt the knot, that had formed in his stomach when he woke up that night, loosen.

"I want to say that-that I hate th-them, but I don't-, it's not fair th-that I can't stop missing them, wh-when they've already forgotten all about m-me," he sobbed, deciding that talking about it couldn't possibly make the situation any more worse than it already was.

This went on for a long time. Beetee had no idea, how long he sat there, talking about his problems and fears and regrets to a girl he hardly knew. Somehow it calmed him down, to know that even if Wiress wasn't listening, which was very likely, he still wasn't carrying this burden by himself anymore.

He removed his glasses and wiped his puffy eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. He drew a shaky breath, and checked his watch, it was 3 in the morning. He felt like he had nothing more to get off his heart, so he got up and walked away, pushing his glasses back on his nose. He did not bother to bid farewell to Wiress, who hadn't even once looked up from her notebook, and was still writing in it at the speed of light.

Beetee reached the double-doors, and it finally dawned on him that the reason why he came here in the first place, was exactly what he ended up doing all night. Confiding in someone, in the hopes of achieving a lighter a heart, when it didn't have to carry the grief alone.

"Beetee." The voice startled him a bit, because he wasn't expecting Wiress to speak. He looked back at the girl, who had finally set down her pencil, pale-grey eyes completely focused on him. "Your family is just scared for you," she said.

Beetee frowned. "They shouldn't be scared of me, _they're my family_," he muttered.

Wiress shook her head. "I said scared _for_ you, not scared _of_.." she trailed off, suddenly deciding that flipping through her freshly-written pages was more important than finishing her sentence.

"Why would they be scared for me?" Beetee asked.

Wiress lift her gaze from the notebook, back to him again. "They're scared that you've.." she fell silent, her eyes trailing from his face to his body, and back again.

"Changed," Beetee finished for her, immidiately catching on what that look she gave him meant. "Well, obviously.. obviously I have changed, I.." he didn't know how to continue.

Wiress nodded. "Change is scary," she paused, her eyes leaving his, instead scanning the walls, "people can't think straight when they're scared, your family needs time to.."

"Heal?" Beetee suggested.

She nodded again. "And so do you."

* * *

The nightly visits at Wiress' house became a weekly thing. There wasn't a spoken agreement about it, but everytime Beetee woke up to a nightmare, he'd go to the house accross the street at talk to her about it. She was always up all night, writing and planning and building things, but she didn't mind listening to Beetee, while she did so.

He found himself a friend in this rather strange girl, who seemingly never slept, and never finished her own sentences. She never judged him, she always came with great advice to his problems, and he could trust her not to tell anybody about what he'd told her. She didn't talk much, but she was the best friend Beetee had had in years.

He'd been coming to her house for two weeks now, and it felt like a second home to him. It was a rather warm sunday-morning, and the sky was a light pink, when Beetee first noticed how little he knew of Wiress.

"When do you sleep?" he asked, out of the blue, as he stared at the peaceful morning-sky. Wiress looked up from the radio she was tinkering with, and stared at him for a while, before realising what he'd asked.

"During the day," she replied, and returned to the radio. "Around 6 am," she added, vaguely.

Beetee glanced at his watch. 5 am. He quickly counted that he hadn't had more than three hours of sleep, before waking up from a nightmare where his borther had died, and everybody blamed him for it.

He heard shuffling from the hallway, and soon Wiress' mother's head popped in through the door, her unfocused eyes scanning the room, and finally landing on Beetee. She smirked, revealing a row of rotting teeth. "Should I be worried that there's a boy sneaking around my house, with my daughter, in the middle of the night?" she asked, arching a brow.

Beetee could feel his face turning bright red at her question. Not because she had a reason to be worried, but because any sort of discussion hinting at physical relations and mental affection made him feel awkward, especially if a friend was involved. He glanced at Wiress, but she seemed completely unmoved by her mother's words.

"Um, no, we're just.. just friends," Beetee stuttered, mentally slapping himself, because his flustered behaviour surely wasn't going to convince her that there was nothing going on between her daughter and him.

Her smile widened. "I'm watching you," she warned him, and before Beetee could make another pathetic attempt at convcining her that he and Wiress were just friends, she was gone. Beetee heard her footsteps echo in the hall, then the door opened, and slammed back shut.

Would his own mother have acted like that, if he'd ever brought a female friend over? The thought brought him back to a nightmare, where he was married with kids, and one of them was reaped. He had sat in a chair, in a dark room, with nothing but a screen infront of him, showing him his child being ripped to pieces by mutts, and all he could do was scream.

He tore his eyes away from the open door, where Wiress' mother had just stood, and looked at the girl sitting opposite of him. She was already looking at him, like she'd guessed he was about to say something. He didn't say what was on his mind, though, instead he looked down at the small radio in Wiress' hands. "Does it work?" he asked.

Without a word, she pressed one of the radio's buttons. For a few seconds all Beetee could hear was crackling-noises, before eerie violin-music broke through it, and the noise became but a small distraction in the background, as the music became louder. The tune was slow and melancholic, but something about it soothed him.

"Is this really what they listen to in the Capitol?" he wondered, shaking his head. He imagined that in the Capitol, all everyone ever listened to was upbeat pop-songs, with ridiculous lyrics. Wiress pressed another button, and a small lid on top of the radio popped open, causing the music to stop.

"It's a CD," she said, taking out the round disc and showing it to Beetee. It was old, just like the radio, and twice the size of the modern CD's that were made nowadays. It had only a few scratches on it, Beetee was sure that it must've been stuck inside that radio for a very long time, which was why it had remained unharmed.

"Judging by the size of it, it must be atleast 40 years old," he said, holding out his hand for it. Wiress gave him the disc, and he examined it closely, flipping it around several times, holding it against the early-morning sunrays, that shone in through the window. "I'd say it could even be from before the Dark Days, when CD's were still almost the size of a hand."

Wiress raised her eyebrows at him, "how can you.."

"I used to sort out old CD's at the recycling-center," he said, handing her back the CD. "You learn alot of completely unuseful information there."

Wiress took the CD. She placed it back into it's designated slot, pressed the lid shut, and the eerie violin-music filled the air again. The music, when added to the sight of the orange sky and the yellow sunrays, washing over the blueprint-covered walls, gave Beetee a sense of peace, that he was sure he would never feel again, after winning the Games.

"Do you think you'll ever.." Wiress said calmly, and Beetee noted that it was the first time she was the one to start a conversation. Something about the way she said it led him to believe that they were back in the moment before he asked about the radio, just when he was remembering the nightmare where his child got reaped.

"Get married? Start a family?" he asked, and Wiress nodded. He sighed, and shook his head. "No, I don't think I ever will. Even if I'd find someone.." he trailed off, finding the conversation to have taken a turn towards things he felt uncomfortable talking about.

Wiress frowned. "Me neither, not here at least, maybe.."

"In another time, in a different place," Beetee finished for her, nodding in agreement, though he couldn't quite see himself in a world without starvation and death. He didn't want to imagine it, because the fact was, that he lived in Panem, with no hopes of ever getting out, and no hopes of change. There was no point in dwelling on dreams of a free world.

"You don't believe anything's ever going.." Wiress said, lifting her gaze from the radio to him. The sun reflected in her eyes, it's peaceful color looking out of place, when mixed with the grey.

It was like she had read his mind, and knew that he couldn't dream. "Anything's ever going to what? Change?" Beetee asked, sounding unimpressed. "It's not very likely."

"There's an infinite number of parallel universes, and in at least one of them the districts will not live under oppression, what makes you so certain that it isn't going to happen this universe? Wiress asked him, with an edge in her voice, that led Beetee to believe that this was something she thought about alot. What really surprised him was the fact that she spoke in a full sentence.

"I highly doupt that this is the universe, where the districts take down the Capitol, because it's not logical. The people are weak and starving, we're not warriors," Beetee argued, being the pessimist that he was.

"Your overly logical way of thinking seems very.." Wiress said, forgetting to finish her sentence, and instead focusing on reading through something she wrote last night.

"Depressing," Beetee filled in, amused. It really was depressing to always see things the brutally logical way, without leaving room for any "what ifs". He couldn't really help himself though, he found dreams of a better future and freedom to be quite... ignorant. Except with Wiress, with her brilliance, a touch of imagination just made her that much more incredible.

Wiress shook her head, disappointed with his attitude. "You'll see, one day things.."

"Will change?" Beetee smiled ruefully. "Change is scary."


End file.
